Oops! I forgot to add a comment from the author:
"When the Postal Service stopped the Mail Trains, They killed Train-Man Brown.
I was only 17 - a white kid green as they come - when I first met Walker Brown. Everybody called him "Train-Man Brown," or just "Train-Man." Not "Trainman" - that was too soft. The emphasis was on "Man." A black man, he had evidently kicked more than a few butts in his lifetime of working in the moving mail cars, and had earned quite of bit of respect along the way. It was assumed he was crazy - but I never believed it, not for a moment.
And he was the only one who would help me, as I struggled to do my best on what some people called "The Gravy Train." The U.S.P.S.
This is his story. Of how he died when the thing he loved most in the world - sorting the mail on a moving train - was taken away from him. Leaving only my memory of him."
